


and it's my fault, and it's why

by seemeinacrown



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bottom Steve, Coming Out, Eventual Smut, Exploring Sexuality, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Kinda, M/M, Making Out, Now with fucking!, Period-Typical Homophobia, Poor baby Billy, Smut, Things are just sad?, Things do get better I promise, Top billy, also kinda - Freeform, poor steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:29:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seemeinacrown/pseuds/seemeinacrown
Summary: The car screeched to a halt in front of Steve’s house, and Billy grabbed Steve’s collar before he could open the car door.“I’m not fucking kidding Steve, what the hell were - ?” Billy was interrupted first by Steve grabbing Billy’s collar, then kissing Billy across the car. When he pulled back, Billy couldn’t even process an appropriate reaction; he just stared blank-eyed at his friend. ‘Friend.’“I got fucking drunk,” Steve whispered, still slurring almost unintelligibly, “cause I wanted to fuckin’ kiss you.”-Steve and Billy have (for the most part) mended old wounds, which means they can drink together...but people do stupid things when they're drunk. Stupid, stupid things. Things that Billy had been trying to bury deep inside and forget since he'd left California.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lord, I've been working at this and honestly don't quite know how it's going to get where it's going, but I'm looking forward to figuring it out. (Suggestions always welcomed.) But this content, for now, is 99.9% angsty teen rivalry and internalized homophobia. Also, as in real life, I write with a ton of swear words, so - sorry.

1\. (Saturday, March) “Jesus Christ, Steve.” Billy, leaning over to be at eye level with his friend, - _god, that still felt so weird to say -_ had one hand on Steve’s shoulder and one under his chin. “What the fuck did I tell you about drinking on an empty stomach?” 

 

Steve dry heaved lightly and looked up at Billy with a leering smile. “I’m not a fuckin’ _baby_ , Billy.” He laughed and stood upright, walking - more like swaying - towards Jonathan’s basement door. “Take me the fuck home.” 

 

Billy snorted angrily and turned to the concerned couple behind him. “Johnathan - sorry, I’m sorry. Goodnight, Nancy.” He waved distractedly as he followed Steve out into the backyard and around Johnathan’s house. It wasn’t hard to catch up to him, and when he did he grabbed the back of Steve’s jacket and gave him a harsh warning before guiding him into his Camaro. 

 

“No throwing up in my car. No thinking you can roll down your window in time. If you get nauseous, you tell me so I can pull the fuck over, understand?” 

 

Steve flipped Billy off lazily and settled in the passenger seat, the sound of Billy forcefully closing the car door echoing through the otherwise silent cul-de-sac. The first few minutes of their drive were silent until Billy couldn’t suppress his anger any longer. 

 

“What the fuck was up with you tonight, huh? You were an absolute _asshole_ all night - Johnathan was _trying_ to accommodate your fucking ass, you know? Not to mention this whole ‘angsty drunken teen’ act you’ve got going on with me.” Billy waved an accusing hand, gesturing in Steve’s general direction. He sighed; Billy knew he was acting like a fucking _mom_ , but something about Steve’s behavior all night had just rubbed him the wrong way. 

 

It had been close to six months since Billy and Steve, and Steve and Johnathan, and Steve and Nancy had made amends for their all-kinds of dickish behavior over the previous year. To be honest, Billy was still surprised not only that he was tolerating Steve’s company, but that Steve had even been willing to look past the beating Billy had given him last fall. Billy was pretty sure Max had hinted to Steve about Billy’s home life - his dad, more specifically - because one week in November Steve’s demeanor around Billy had softened dramatically, but he’d never brought it up and Billy damn sure wasn’t going to. 

 

It wasn’t an ideal friendship - Billy was naturally hotheaded, and it brought out the less savory parts of Steve’s personality at times. They managed to bond over a few things, although a cloud hinting of obligation, and some other weird, unidentified feelings, still hung over their friendship. 

 

But, under his anger, Billy felt plenty of concern for Steve tonight, though he would never, never fucking admit it. 

 

Steve didn’t answer, just looked out the window and almost mockingly hummed along to Billy’s music. Billy slammed the ‘stop’ button on the player. “Hello? Earth to asshole-Steve?” 

 

“What the fuck do you want? I got a little drunk, that’s all. I’m allowed to, I’m a _teenager_ , I’m supposed to do dumb shit.” Steve’s speech was mumbled and slurred. 

 

“No. This isn’t you, Steve, and you know it. You’ve got 5 more minutes to think about explaining yourself before we get to your house.” Billy would’ve gagged at his tone, but he was practically blinded by anger and it was all he could do to keep his eyes on the road. He hadn’t blown up in a while - maybe that was it. Pent up aggression. 

 

Steve again declined to answer, instead spending the rest of his ride humming to a tune Billy couldn’t identify - Steve was probably fucking making it up. 

 

The car screeched to a halt in front of Steve’s house, and Billy grabbed Steve’s collar before he could open the car door. 

 

“I’m not fucking kidding Steve, what the hell were - ?” Billy was interrupted first by Steve grabbing _Billy’s_ collar, then _kissing_ Billy across the car. When he pulled back, Billy couldn’t even process an appropriate reaction; he just stared blank-eyed at his friend. ‘ _Friend_.’

 

“I got fucking drunk,” Steve whispered, still slurring almost unintelligibly, “cause I wanted to fuckin’ _kiss_ you.” He stuck a finger towards Billy’s chest and mustered a small laugh. “Couldn’t do it sober, you know?” Steve leaned back into his seat and sighed sleepily. “You take me inside Billy?” 

 

Billy shook his head, still silent. He wanted to be angry, and god knew he was, but for some reason there were _tears_ rolling down his cheeks, which just made him all the more angry. Weakly, he pulled himself out of the still-running car, opened the passenger door, and dragged Steve out. He made sure Steve was as safely-placed on the front lawn as Billy could manage before jumping into the Camaro and speeding away as fast as he could. 

 

He had to blink twice before realizing he was parked in his home driveway; Billy’s mind had been blank, fucking _empty_ the whole way home, getting him there on autopilot. It took him another ten minutes before he could muster up the strength to walk inside; his dad wouldn’t care that he was home late on a Friday night, but Billy was still nervous. Like maybe his dad would take one look at Billy’s lips and know Steve had kissed him. 


	2. Chapter 2

2\. (Monday, March) “Billy, man, what the fuck?” Upon hearing his name, Billy looked up from his near-empty locker to see Steve rushing towards him down the hall. He stiffened, blushed, and steeled his face all at once. “Wanna tell me why I woke up on my fucking lawn Saturday morning?” 

 

“I - are you serious?” Billy was angry, annoyed as hell, and (briefly) surprised. “ _That’s_ your problem with that whole situation?” 

 

“Uh, yeah?” Steve huffed, eyes wide. 

 

“Shut the fuck up, man. Don’t act like you don’t remember that little stunt you pulled before I dropped you off.” Billy poked Steve angrily in the chest and slammed his locker shut for effect before turning down the hall, only then considering that Steve might actually not have remembered that _encounter_. The guy had been well past blackout drunk and two minutes shy of sleep. 

 

“What are you talking about?” He heard Steve rushing after him, still angry but sounding slightly more concerned. The Steve he was used to. Billy ignored him. 

 

“Billy!” Steve grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “Billy, what are you talking about?” 

 

Billy pushed Steve’s hand off of him and did his best to tower over him. “Quit the fucking act, Harrington. Told me you were fucking _planning_ that shit, so don’t act like you don’t know - .” 

 

“Oh, god.” Steve’s face suddenly melted into an expression of near-horror. “Not - no. I didn’t do…that…?” He looked up at Billy as if waiting for him to tell Steve he was wrong, but Billy just stared back, motionless. “Fuck. Billy, I - I’m - I didn’t mean to, didn’t know - .” But Billy was already walking away. God knew there was nothing Steve could do to apologize for that stupid, stupid, horrible, amazing, stupid kiss. 


	3. Chapter 3

3\. Billy went absolutely out of his way to avoid Steve for the next three weeks, which unfortunately involved thinking about Steve _all the fucking time_ trying to remember his schedule and which parts of the halls to avoid. Steve had tried to approach him once after the first week, but Billy had immediately turned and made it perfectly clear he didn’t want to engage. Steve took the hint. 

 

He was angry and all Billy wanted to do was think about punching Steve upside that goddamn head of his, but thinking about Steve in any capacity was just…too much, so Billy settled on trying for indifference. 

 

But how could he be? There was no middle ground between ‘intense fucking attraction’ and ‘I want to beat the _shit_ out of you, Harrington.’ Because it wasn’t just the douchey behavior that night, or the unexpected kiss that angered Billy, it was the California-centric nightmares he’d had every fucking night since Steve had put his lips on his. 

 

Everything that Billy had spent precious daylight hours and long fucking nights (alone, and with dumb, cow-town bitches) intently working to tuck away into the back of his head had bubbled up and overflowed as soon as Steve had kissed him. It was all drowning Billy, and for some reason, this time, he couldn’t pack everything away like he had before

 

But, once in a while, when Billy was laying in bed late at night, or touching himself in the shower, for a split second Steve’s mop of hair and marble face would creep into the dark corners of Billy’s mind. He always pushed him out, though - _thank god_. If he was good at anything, it was that. 


	4. Chapter 4

4\. (Thursday, April) Apparently a month was too long for Steve to go without speaking to Billy - his former _enemy_ for god’s sake - and so, one day after school while Billy was lazing next to his car, waiting for Max, Steve suddenly appeared in front of him. 

 

“Look, Billy, can we talk?” Honestly, Steve sounded pathetic. Billy lit a cigarette as casually as he could, looking past Steve to the school’s front lawn. 

 

“What do you want, Harrington?” 

 

“Shit, I - I want to apologize, okay? Can you just let me do that?” Steve was doing that thing where he hand one hand on his hip, and he waved the other one around, exasperated. Billy had to remind himself that it was _not_ cute, it was….fuck. Cute. 

 

Steeling his face, Billy looked at Steve expectantly but stayed silent. 

 

“Okay, look. I…that night, I was an ass, okay. I shouldn’t have gotten that trashed, and I shouldn’t have been rude to you, and I shouldn’t have - done what I did. That was just fucked up, and weird, and _wrong,_ and I don’t even know where that came from, okay?” 

 

Steve sighed and looked down, adding his second hand to his other hip. He was blushing, and his voice got quieter. “Seeing Jonathan and Nance…Nancy just still gets to me sometimes, and then I get all bummed out and stupid and do stupid things.” He breathed deeply, then stood up straighter and looked at Billy once again. 

 

“And just so you know, I’m _not_ fucking queer, okay? So you don’t have to worry about me trying to get in your pants.” Steve started to laugh, apparently trying to lighten things up, but Billy’s eyes only went darker, sadder. 

 

“You sure about that?” He didn’t give Steve a chance to respond before continuing. “Apology accepted, now get the fuck away from me.” Billy gestured with his cigarette before throwing it on the ground, stepping on it as he got into his car. He watched Steve as he nodded and slowly walked away, like a fucking kicked puppy. _That’s my old Steve._


	5. Chapter 5

5\. (Friday, May) Billy had avoided drinking with others for as long as he’d avoided Steve. No, he wasn’t one to fucking give up drinking like some goddamn _saint_ , but drinking in front of others while he was in the fucking _emotional_ state Steve had put him in was just asking for disaster.

 

But the school year was nearing a close, the parties were getting better, the weather warmer, and Billy couldn’t help but want to let loose. It had been long enough, he thought. 

 

Carol’s parents were out of town for the weekend (not that they’d have cared if they _were_ home), so she’d strung together a party and apparently gotten a hold of every bottle of liquor and case of beer in the state. Billy could smell the alcohol from the driveway, and allowed himself to get at least a little excited about getting shitfaced with his friends; his stupid fucking _cowboy_ friends out here in fucking Hawkins, Indiana, but friends nonetheless. He knew how to work with what he had. 

 

It took him about 30 minutes to get as drunk as he had planned on getting, then another 20 to be wasted enough to forget that he _wasn’t_ supposed to be wasted. He was laughing, dancing, screaming with others about god knows what, but even drunk as he was he found himself incapable of flirting and grinding with girls like he usually did. 

 

And he kept drinking, and kept drinking, until people were starting to pour out of the house and make their ways home, and Billy was finding it hard to leave. Things felt unfinished, _no closure_. His drunk mind was telling him what he hadn’t had the balls to admit to himself sober; he’d come here looking to run into Steve, and do - something. Fuck him? Fight him? 

 

And that’s when he _finally_ saw Steve; god knows how he hadn’t found him already. 

 

“Hey, you, Harrington!” Billy called out, trying to sound aggressive but realizing that he probably just sounded weakened. He grinned to himself when Steve turned. 

 

“Where the fuck are you going, Stevie?” He laughed, drinking in everything about Steve’s face - everything that he hadn’t been able to for the past month. 

 

“I’m heading home, Billy, just like everyone else…are you okay?” 

 

“‘Mmkay, justa little drunk.” But the longer Billy looked into Steve’s eyes, the sadder he became. He was thinking about why he was mad at Steve in the first place. He tried to hide it. 

 

“I mean, fuck, Billy, you’re trashed as hell. How’d you get here?” 

 

“Drove.” 

 

Steve sighed - not angrily, just…Billy couldn’t tell what. “Okay well, look, I know you’re pissed at me but I’m driving you home, okay? We’ll get your car tomorrow.” 

 

Billy didn’t respond, just allowed himself to be led outside to Steve’s car. His feelings had fully caught up with him, but his senses hadn’t, so he was just…angry drunk. Drunk and angry. And sad. Billy had _busted his ass_ to say he wasn’t fucking queer, and Steve just got to throw it around like it was nothing, take it for granted, have a ‘get out of jail free card’ for some faggy kiss? _No._

 

“You fuckin’ kissed me,” Billy hissed as Steve settled him into the passenger seat of his car. 

 

“Yeah, I did, Billy. It was an accident, remember?” Steve sounded choked, forcing a light tone that Billy saw right through ( _or did he?_ ). 

 

“Did you even _think_ about it?” Billy started as Steve pulled away from Carol’s house. He felt like he was thinking clearly, like he was thinking about all the reasons he was mad at Steve and all the ways he could hurt him, but when he opened his mouth to try and take a jab at him somehow Billy’s mouth took over and made him say _emotional_ things. “ _I could get in trouble._ ” 

 

“What, cause some dude kissed you? If anything you could just’ve blamed it on me.” Steve’s attempts at reassurance might have stilled Billy’s anger, but as it subsided his sadness, his _fear_ replaced it all. 

 

“No, no no no no no,” Billy shook his head, and by the time he’d uttered his last ‘no’ tears were steadily rolling down his cheeks. “Can’t get in trouble.” 

 

“Trouble for what?” Steve glanced carefully at Billy, concern in his eyes. 

 

Billy looked out the windshield as steadily as he could. “For actin’ like a fuckin’ _fag,_ Steve.” He’d meant to spit it out, but his words were coming out jumbled and fucking _pathetic_. And suddenly, his breath was tight in his chest and he was grabbing Steve’s arm. 

 

“Can’t take me home, Steve, please,” he begged, goddamn _tears_ in his eyes but he just couldn’t control it. He’d drank past the point of reasonable emotional self-control, and apparently his body was on a mission to betray every feeling and secret he had. 

 

“Why not?” 

 

“Dad. And you, you’re…a _boy_.” Billy shook his head and started crying harder. “You shouldn’t have kissed me, _Steve_ , I can’t go home.” 

 

“Hey, hey,” Steve shushed Billy gently. “We’ll go to my house, okay? No going home.” 

 

Billy knew he’d be in hot water for showing up at home the next _morning_ rather than late tonight, but some dam deep inside him had broken and he just knew if he went home to Neil he’d still be crying about Steve and how _fucking angry_ he was, and Neil would have none of that. 

 

And if Neil found out about Steve…maybe that’s why he was panicking. Alone in the car with Steve, and he was _supposed_ to be angry at him but he just looked _so good_ and _‘this can’t happen again Billy don’t fucking do this to yourself._ ’ 

 

He succumbed to heaving sobs and felt Steve’s hand tentatively pat his shoulder. “Billy, what’s wrong? Did something happen at the party?” 

 

Billy shook his head fervently, then looked up; they were at Steve’s. “I’m just…it’s _wrong_.”

 

Steve took the time to park and jog over to open Billy’s door before responding, helping Billy out of the car. “What do you mean, ‘wrong’?” 

 

“I’m fucked up, Steve, that’s why you can’t fucking _kiss_ me.” His voice was angry and loud, but dampened by his heavy crying. They were both silent until Steve managed to guide him into his living room, settling Billy on the floor next to the couch. “You can’t Steve, it’s not good.” 

 

“I…I know, Billy, and I’m really, really sorry - .”

 

“No.” The word choked in Billy’s throat, and he looked at Steve pleadingly - but for what, he didn’t know. Steve just looked at him with puzzled eyes that were still too fucking _kind_. “No, no, you don’t under _stand_.” He was crying harder now. “It’s _me_ , I’m….fuck, I’m….” Billy started shaking his head, making eye contact only with the rug below him, which seemed to be spinning faster by the minute. 

 

“You’re what?” Steve’s soft voice seemed to be floating ten feet above Billy’s head. 

 

“I’m…I’m a, I…I like…I’m, boys…” Billy trailed off, staring at Steve with his goddamn, drunk, _helpless_ eyes. The shame of who he was and the gravity of what he’d just admitted to Steve quelled his tears momentarily, making room for a deep blush to spread across his already flushed cheeks. 

 

“I understand. You like boys.” Steve whispered, and Billy started to sob again, as if on cue. He watched Steve, who moved towards him slightly but seemed to reconsider - but he didn’t seem angry, Billy thought. He hoped. “It’s okay, Billy.” He felt a hand on his shoulder, and Steve settling next to him on the floor. 

 

“No, no, no.” Billy heaved as he protested, shaking his head. “It’s not okay. I’m…I’m a _fag,_ ” and he almost slid all the way down to the floor, barely feeling himself crying anymore because he said the word out loud and all he could think of was _high school_ and _Ryan_ and doors being opened and _dad, no, dad, stop_ and yelling and screaming and _emergency room_ and _ashamed_ and _this is why your mother left you_ and ’Hawkins, Indiana.’ 

 

“Hey, hey, don’t say that,” Steve begged, squeezing Billy’s shoulder and adding his other hand to Billy’s back. “You’re okay. It’s just me. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, and besides, I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I promise.” Normally Billy would’ve punched Steve for talking to him like that but he could barely hear him through his own rushing thoughts. All he could do was lay there and cry and heave and sob until he fell asleep right on Steve’s living room carpet, thinking about how much he hated Steve and how much he wanted to kiss him. 


	6. Chapter 6

6\. (Saturday, May) He woke up to bright lights and the sounds of cooking, sitting up slowly and examining the blanket draped over him. Billy remembered where he was - Steve’s house - and then he remembered what he’d told Steve last night and that he hadn’t gone home on time, and, still sleepy eyed, started to cry again. Within moments, Steve was rushing to his side, spatula still in hand. 

 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” 

 

“Need…need to smoke,” Billy choked out, and Steve jumped back into the kitchen, returning with a lighter and a cigarette. 

 

“Is it okay if you come smoke on the back porch with me, Billy? Not in the living room. Mom will kill me.” 

 

Billy nodded, tears slowing as he stood and shakily lit up, blindly following Steve outside. It took him another 20 minutes to regain any semblance of composure. When he did, Steve managed a gentle, “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

 

He sighed, took a drag on his second cigarette, and shook his head, but in defeat rather than in answer to Steve’s question. “It’s just…it’s wrong,” his voice cracked, “and…the moving. It’s why we’re here.” Billy was only whispering, staring blankly at Steve’s back fence. It wasn’t logical - it was _stupid_ \- but he just felt compelled to tell Steve, even if just so that someone else would _know_. 

 

“Your family moved here…because you’re gay?” Steve’s brow furrowed and he stared at Billy’s distant eyes. He settled back into his chair. “I mean, I know people don’t like queers, but that doesn’t seem like a reason to move all the way the fuck out here to Hawkins.” It sounded like a question. 

 

Billy shook his head, tears spilling over again, silently and slowly this time. “It’s not just cause I’m gay.” He kept shaking his head, harder. “It’s cause…I’m fuckin’ queer, and…it wasn’t just my dad, or my family, that found out, you know?” He breathed in sharply, stifling a sob. His voice dropped to a barely-audible whisper. “It was everyone.” 

 

“What…what happened?” 

 

One final time, he briefly considered not telling Steve, but before he could stop himself Billy was launching into a monologue laced with quiet tears. 

 

“I…I always knew I was gay. I tried girls, you know?” 

 

Steve offered up a sympathetic nod. 

 

“But I hated it. Didn’t feel right.” He shook his head. “And so, you know, I was with a boy every now and then. Was a little easier out there,” his hand pointed out arbitrarily, “you know that. But I was, you know, drinking a lot, doing some hard shit pretty often…I was just being dumb, you know? You know how you get, you’re 16 and think you’re hot shit, think you’re all grown up.” 

 

He shivered involuntarily as he worked on his cigarette in silence for a few moments. “And, I had this friend, Ryan. And his older brother knew I was - that I liked guys. And we used to get high together, and this one night he tells me he knows how I can make some good money. And fuck, what was I supposed to do, say no?” Momentarily, Billy got angry, almost yelled, then settled farther back into his chair and started to cry again. 

 

“I wasn’t shit with money. And I was fuckin’ high, so I wasn’t thinking clearly, you know? I said yes. And he tells me to meet up with him in 2 days at his friend’s house, so I do, and we’re all smoking and drinking and fuck knows what else, and then he tells me he _knows_ I’m a fag, like I didn’t know that already, and tells me his friend is too,” Billy choked back another sob and turned his head away from Steve, “and his friends, they, you know, make videos and pictures and shit for a living. And he says if I just go upstairs and do a few things and get a few pictures taken they’ll give me fifty fuckin’ dollars, and they wouldn’t even get my face in it - .” 

 

Billy paused to wipe his eyes, still avoiding Steve’s gaze like his life depended on it. “I said yes. I wasn’t thinking straight, you know, was all strung out and I just _needed_ that money, you know? I needed it.” 

 

He heard Steve’s soft protests - “No, of course - .” but tried to ignore the pity, but the goddamn _care_ in Steve’s voice. 

 

“And you can imagine how that went. I left, I had all this money, got to fuck around with someone for a bit, shit was great.” He knew he should’ve be crying harder at that point, but it was almost like he couldn’t anymore - he just felt numb; surreal. Billy had told this story to himself in his head a million times, but never out loud. 

 

“And, like, a month later, Ryan comes fucking walking up to me in school, and he’s all angry and jumpy and tells me he went into his brother’s room to borrow a fucking _tie_ , and he sees this pile of pictures by his bed, and then he realizes that it’s _me_ in them.” Billy shook his head to himself; _dumbass_. He wasn’t done crying, apparently. 

 

“And he sticks his finger at me, gets all fuckin’ _accusatory_ , and he goes ‘you’re a dirty fucking porno _faggot,_ ’ like I’m the devil, and god knows everyone hears cause he’s practically yelling, and, and…I don’t know. We were friends, we really were, but suddenly he’s telling people and even _shows the fucking pictures_ to the fuckers that aren’t afraid to ask for proof. Said I disgusted him.” 

 

Billy heard emotional condolences behind him and did his best to ignore it. He didn’t need Steve’s feelings right now, not yet. 

 

“And my dad found out.” That was the sentence that sent Billy over the edge into a full-on sob again. And suddenly Steve’s arms were around him, and Billy sank to the ground and he just _heaved_ into Steve. He couldn’t tell him the rest of the story, just couldn’t put it into words, but he knew Steve was smart enough to fill in the rest. When Billy finally stilled, he pulled back and looked off in the distance, _anywhere_ but at Steve. 

 

“So that’s why we moved here. And it’s my fault. And it’s why - ,” he shook his head again, looking down into Steve’s lap, “why I couldn’t kiss you, because…because I _like_ you and, and…it can’t happen again, I can’t be with boys…and then I couldn’t hang out with you because….” He didn’t know what else to say. It felt like no amount of apologies, or explanations, or fucking _excuses_ could make it up to Steve, the fact that Billy’s just a stupid, awful, homosexual piece of - 

 

“It’s okay.” Billy felt Steve’s tentative hands on his thighs, saw Steve’s head duck to peek at Billy under his curls. “It’s okay.” He saw that _Steve_ was crying too, and blushed heavily with guilt. “I’m so sorry I kissed you, Billy, I didn’t mean to, to bring all this up, you know?” 

 

Billy shook his head, trying to find the strength to say _it’s okay_ but finding it difficult. 

 

“And I’m sorry I said all that mean shit about queers, I just…I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’s weird, like people say it is, so I tell myself I’m supposed to know it’s wrong, and sometimes….” He wiped his sleeve across his nose and looked over Billy’s head. “I don’t know. I don’t like to think about it, cause I like girls, but…I don’t know, Billy, I just felt different that night I kissed you. I know I said it was a mistake, but I really wanted to. It just felt like…like if I did it with you, things would be okay.” 

 

Billy could feel Steve shiver as he admitted it, voice barely a whisper. Maybe he would’ve been ecstatic about it any other time, but all he could think about then was what would happen if his family found out something had happened again. And reminded himself in his head that it was wrong for him to like boys, the way he did every time he started to get those fucking feelings, Steve or otherwise. And maybe Steve was just being nice, and didn’t mean it. 

 

“But Billy…it’s okay that you…that you like guys. Nothing is wrong with you.” Steve was lightly gripping Billy’s shoulders, looking straight at him. “I know most people say it’s wrong, but, fuck, I don’t know. Lots of people say it’s just natural, too. But, it’s okay.” Steve rubbed Billy’s shoulder, then sat up straight again. “Shit, I don’t know, I’m not being fucking helpful. I’m sorry.” He shook his head. 

 

Billy wanted to respond right away, but it took him a few moments to find his voice. “I haven’t told anyone about that, Steve. You can’t tell…but I _know_ you won’t, Steve.” He looked up, trying to tell Steve it was okay just through the look in his eyes. “You…listened. You’re helpful.” It wasn’t like Billy to be this soft, but shit, he’d just cried like a fucking baby in front of the guy. It didn’t seem like it was worth hiding much now. 

 

Steve nodded to himself, then smiled weakly at Billy. “I don’t have to take you home anytime soon if you don’t want, Billy.” 

 

Billy shook his head. He wanted to stay, god knew he _wanted_ to fucking stay, but…it wasn’t right. Not now, not the way he was feeling. And besides, he was late enough “No, I…I appreciate it, but I think I need to go, if…if that’s okay.” He looked up at Steve apologetically, and he could’ve sworn he saw blatant disappointment in his eyes, but then it was gone and Steve was standing up, agreeing to drive Billy back to his car, and leading him to the front door. 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

7\. (May) It fucking sucked. He and Steve hadn’t so much as made unnecessary eye contact since Billy had told him everything. Since they’d talked. Since Steve had implied Billy made him feel _okay_ being gay, or being curious, or whatever. 

 

Billy knew he was keeping himself from Steve (or any other boy, for that matter) for a reason. A good fucking reason. The ‘discussion’ he’d had with his dad after returning home that Saturday morning was enough to remind him of that. That their ‘discussion’ was only a fraction as bad as what would happen if Billy was caught with a boy, or even fucking _thinking_ about being gay again. 

 

But at the same time, something defeated in him was telling him to just throw caution to the wind and _fuck a man_. He wouldn’t have considered it, but Steve had opened pandora’s goddamn box and Billy figured it might not hurt to just reevaluate things before packing it all back up. He’d wised up since California; he’d learned from his mistakes. Right? As long as he didn’t fuck while he was high (or drunk, or whatever), and for god’s sake didn’t let some asshole queer take _pictures_ of him, how the fuck would his dad find out? 

 

Right? 

 

But it couldn’t be with Steve. Things were too…emotional, emotionally charged with him. If Billy got his dick wet with Steve, the way things were now? Game over. He knew he’d slip up. The point of fucking a guy, this time around, wasn’t to feel _good_ \- it was to feel numb. Get it out of his fucked up system. 

 

That’s how he ended up hauling all the way to the nearest “city” on Saturday and soliciting his ass into some man’s bedroom. He’d tried to (within his limited options, obviously) find someone who looked as different from Steve as possible. Older (maybe 30? 35?), blonde, and thick. And gruff. Everything that Steve wasn’t. 

 

And honestly, the whole time he was fucking the guy (or, rather, he was fucking Billy) things felt surreal. He was in the middle of god-knows-where, Indiana, getting pounded by a stranger. He was _having sex with a man_ , something he honest to god had assumed would never happen again after the ordeal in California. At least, he had promised himself as much. And the whole time, he couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, which was fucking annoying because the whole point of this excursion had been to _not_ think about Steve. But he’d be lying if he said what finally (not like it had taken long) pushed him over the edge and made him cum all over the man’s sheets wasn’t imagining Steve was inside him instead. And he’d by lying if he said he hadn’t cried the entire drive home. He told himself it was the burning pain in his ass, but he wasn’t that fucking dumb. 


	8. Chapter 8

 

8\. (June) Summer snuck up on Billy. Probably because all he was thinking about, every day, was Steve. He’d tried and tried and tried to get him out of his head, and some days he _almost_ succeeded, but then he was right back on his old Steve bullshit. 

 

The fact that Steve was graduating in, like, a week didn’t help. Billy knew he was probably just going to stay in town, at least for a time, working for his dad. And it should’ve comforted Billy, but for some reason the graduation still seemed like a deadline. Like, once Steve graduated, he would be cut loose from Hawkins, and social obligations, and he might just leave Billy behind. And the idea of never seeing Steve again, for some _stupid_ fucking reason, scared Billy more than Billy’s dad ever had. 

 

So that’s why, three days before Steve’s graduation, Billy was knocking on Steve’s door at 9pm. Not too early, not too late. Hoping Steve’s parents weren’t home. Which, of course they were. 

 

“Yes?” Steve’s dad leaned out of the doorway ever so slightly, looking Billy up and down with an expression that wasn’t quite angry, but wasn’t friendly, either. 

 

“Hi Mr. Harrington, I’m guessing? I’m Billy, one of Steve’s friends, from school, we made plans to study together.” 

 

“Study? For what?” Mr. Harrington’s eyebrows rose. 

 

“I’ve got a biology final tomorrow that I’ve been cramming for, and Steve’s offered to help me out.” He flashed the same smile he’d used to placate Mrs. Wheeler the past year, but his heart was hammering. Fuck, was he trying to act casual. 

 

“Steve and biology? I - .” He was cut off by Steve practically jumping down the stairs. 

 

“Dad, Billy, hey! Sorry, dad, I forgot to tell you Billy was gonna stop by.” He smiled and waved Billy in and towards the stairs. “We won’t stay up late, promise.” 

 

Mr. Harrington only shook his head and shut the door, apparently returning to a glass of whiskey he’d been working on in the kitchen. Once they were shut in Steve’s room, Billy released the breath he’d been holding and met eyes with Steve. 

 

“Jesus fuck, I’m sorry, didn’t know your parents would be home - but thanks for covering my ass - .” 

 

Steve looked at him with sad, and wild, eyes. “Billy, why - what are you doing here? Is there an emergency?” he gestured sarcastically around the room. 

 

“Steve, I’m sorry.” Billy wanted to act cool but there was nothing cool about showing up at a boy’s house, talking to his father, and then begging for forgiveness and hoping to at _least_ kiss him. 

 

“What? If this is about the not talking, it’s fine, I get it. It’s okay.” And Billy could tell Steve really _wanted_ it to be okay, even though it wasn’t. 

 

Billy drew in a sigh and released it with an open mouth. He didn’t know quite how to continue, until he was saying, “I don’t care anymore. About it.” 

 

“About what?” 

 

“I….being queer. Liking…liking you.” He shuffled his feet and looked down as Steve’s mouth opened silently and his brows furrowed. 

 

“Look, I still wouldn’t want anyone to find out, mostly cause of my dad, but I…if you still wanna kiss me, and I totally get it if you don’t - .” 

 

“Okay, wait.” Steve’s hands were on his hips - _not surprising,_ Billy thought. “You….with the gay stuff…you want to?” 

 

“Would you?” It was out of Billy’s mouth before he could stop himself. 

 

“I mean…shit. What changed? What happened?”

 

Billy crossed his arms. He didn’t want to be emotional, _vulnerable_ , but missing a chance with Steve just…didn’t feel right. So he went for the abbreviated explanation. 

 

“I don’t know. I was mad, about the- you, kissing me. But…just thought about things. Tried being with other guys.” He whispered his next confession. “But I just wanted you.” They were silent. “I just had a lot to think about, before…before coming to you.” His eyes were glued to the floor. 

 

Steve didn’t speak for at least another few minutes. “I…maybe?” Billy looked up to see Steve silently try to start, and then abandon, at least ten sentences. “Why?” was what he settled on. 

 

“Why…you?” 

 

Steve nodded. 

 

“I don’t know. I…you’re my friend. I like you. I liked when you kissed me. Always thought you looked good, too. And you’re nice.” Since when had he become some pussy romantic?

 

“It’s not just cause I’m the only guy in Hawkins that you know that would even _consider_ being…being with another guy?” Steve’s voice was fiery. 

 

Billy shook his head emphatically, and tried to look at Steve but settled for the ceiling. 

 

“Do you promise?” 

 

He knew he owed it to Steve, so Billy forced himself to look him in the eyes. “I do.” 

 

Steve stood and rushed towards the door. For a long, long moment, Billy thought Steve was about to usher him out of his house and _really_ never speak to him again, but before he could process what was actually happening, Steve had locked the door and rushed back in to kiss Billy. Hard. It was a stupid, sloppy, frankly amateur kiss, but it was all Billy had thought about for weeks. No, _months_. 

 

“Okay?” Steve pulled back and panted. 

 

Billy nodded. “Yes. Yes.” 

 

“Just wanna kiss you right now,” Steve huffed out between kisses. “Just cause…parents. And - .” 

 

“I understand.” And then Steve was backing him up onto his bed, practically pushing him down, and climbing on top of Billy. And Billy was fucking loving it, going crazy over the idea that this was _actually happening_. He’d slept with at least five men since he and Steve had last talked, but it felt like _this_ was the first time Billy had actually kissed someone in a long, long time. 

 

His hips bucked up into Steve, who was straddling him like a fucking _slut_ , and Steve moaned quietly. “Fuck…Billy.” He dove back down to keep kissing Billy. “This is…weird?” 

 

“We can stop,” Billy offered, his hands a mere inch from Steve’s slim hips. He meant it. 

 

“No, fuck no.” Steve pulled up ever so slightly and looked at Billy, eyes wide and breath heavy. “I like it. Just…you have a dick. And no tits.”

 

“No shit, Harrington.” 

 

“Shut up.” Steve batted at him lightly. “Just is different. And…having my legs spread.” He laughed quietly, and Billy hitched his thumbs into Steve’s belt loops. 

 

“It’s fucking hot. To me.” Unconsciously, he continued to grind into Steve’s ass. Steve began kissing him again, and _grinding back_. 

 

“I wanna do things to you, Billy. I don’t fucking know _what_ , but I wanna.” Steve’s hands wound their way into Billy’s hair, and it was _so goddamn hot._ Besides the fact that he was finally with Steve, it was the way they had to whisper, the hiding from his parents, the juvenile, full-clothes makeout. And that’s what they did, just kissed and ground on each other until Steve pulled back slowing to look at his clock. Billy had been there an hour. 

 

“I don’t want you to, but maybe…maybe you should go. Just so things don’t seem weird, with my parents.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah. Absolutely.” Billy sat up, straightened his hair and shirt. Steve had climbed off and was sitting next to him on the bed, chewing on his lip. 

 

“Do you wanna…do this again?” Steve’s voice was quieter than it had been all night. 

 

Billy all but moaned, even just from the sheer relief of not having to ask Steve himself, or worse - wonder. “I do. If you want to.” 

 

He looked at Steve, who had a shit-eating grin on his face and didn’t say a word, just climbed back onto Billy’s lap and made out with him until he had the presence of mind again to _actually_ show Billy out. 


	9. Chapter 9

9.(June) Billy didn’t think he could talk about his…gay shit with Steve in public, even if in vague, friendly language. No making plans together. That’s why he called Steve on a payphone two hours after school was over, hoping Steve was home. Alone. 

 

“Harrington residence, this is Steve.” 

 

“Rich-ass.” Billy smiled to himself. 

 

“Billy?” 

 

“Yeah. It’s me.” 

 

“Hey, Billy.” Steve sounded tentative, but… _happy_. 

 

“Hey. Um, I just wanted to, uh, talk about, you know, hanging out again. Like, when I came over to ‘study’.” He laughed softly. 

 

“Oh, hell yeah.” Billy heard Steve sigh on the other end of the line. “I do. Um, why are you _calling_ me about this, though?” 

 

Billy’s cheeks flushed. “Didn’t want to talk about it in public.” 

 

“You know we’re friends now. Publicly?” Steve teased. 

 

“I…I’m sorry.” Billy’s voice faltered. 

 

“No, sorry, I mean. I totally get it.” 

 

Steve continued after Billy stayed silent for another few breaths. “I mean, can you come over…tonight?” 

 

Billy was grinning again. “Yes. Will, uh… - ?” 

 

“My parents won’t be home.” Billy could hear Steve’s smile. “I, uh….I’m excited to see you.” 

 

“I’ll see you at 9.” Billy hung up before either he or Steve could change their minds, and smiled to himself as he walked back to his car. 

 

And he was on cloud nine—until he was driving home, and once he was back in his room the panic had set back in. Well, maybe not panic. Mostly fear. It wasn’t the _sex_ he was afraid of; he’d had enough in Indiana so far that he was fairly confident he could keep getting away with it if he was careful. No, it wasn’t the sex. It was the fact that he was so damn _emotional_ over Steve. 

 

He really couldn’t explain it, the way that he felt for Steve or even _why_ he felt that way. Sure, Steve was a good guy. Hard to argue with that. But there were plenty of nice, pretty guys. 

 

And it wasn’t just that he knew Steve was okay with being (or at least being _with_ ) a queer. Because he’d been feeling this way about Steve since they’d said truce and started their weird fucking friendship. Not fawning over him - Billy didn’t _fawn_ \- but there had been something in his gut whenever he was around Steve, something that sent gentle bolts of electricity up Billy’s back every time he saw Steve and told him _get closer_. 

 

And he couldn’t afford to have, to be distracted by, feelings for a _guy_. No. Especially not a guy he was (hopefully) fucking. And maybe it was better if he just didn’t go over to Steve’s. The confidence that had propelled him to Steve’s room the day before, the almost instinctual feeling that he just couldn’t lose Steve, had waned and given way to whatever the _fuck_ shit he was feeling now. 

 

He laid in bed, facedown, fingers gripping at the sheets and fighting back anxious breaths, for hours, alternating thinking about it and pretending he wasn’t a faggot. It’s what made him an hour late to Steve’s house. But finally, he’d pried himself out of bed and walked stiffly downstairs, feeding his dad and Susan some shit about studying for finals (again), as if he’d ever studied before. Then he drove what felt like twice his normal speed over to Steve’s house. 


	10. Chapter 10

10\. Steve opened the door with a nervous grin. “Hey, I, uh….was worried you weren’t gonna show.” 

 

Billy flushed and stepped inside. “Yeah, fuck, I’m sorry. Things came up. But I’m glad I’m here,” he offered, giving Steve an uncharacteristically soft smile. 

 

“Me too.” Steve shut the door but stayed next to it, foot tapping instead of walking further in. “Uh, so…we can grab drinks, if you want.” 

 

“You sure you can handle your liquor?” Billy joked. 

 

“Oh my god, you’re one to fucking talk.” Steve flipped Billy off and walked towards the kitchen, pulling a six-pack out of the fridge and slinging it over his shoulder. “Wanna go out back?” He gestured with his head towards the sliding back door in the kitchen. 

 

“No neighbors?” Billy wrapped his arms tightly together. 

 

“No, none close. I mean, I’ve never seen anyone get close in all the years I’ve lived here, so.” He threw his free hand up. “Just woods.” 

 

Billy shrugged. “It’s a nice night.” 

 

They shuffled out to Steve’s back patio, dragging pool chairs close together at the edge of the water. Billy kicked his boots off and accepted the beer Steve was lazily dangling in front of him. “Thanks.” 

 

He wasn’t quite sure how to start things, so Billy just drank. Small talk seemed…not unnecessary. Just stupid. He wanted things to be as uninvolved, as unemotional, as ‘no strings attached’ as possible. _You don’t care how his day has been._ He told himself. _You do, fucker, but - don’t. You don’t now._

 

Steve hadn’t gotten the memo. “Finals going okay for you?” 

 

Billy shook his head, forcing a laugh and smile that were more genuine than he hoped they would’ve been. “Shit, no.” He took a long drink, finishing his beer and reaching for another. “Honestly, fuck you for graduating. I’d kill to be done with school.” 

 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve chided in mock offense. “Rude, first of all. And second, graduating is stressful as hell. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. I mean, I know what I’m _supposed_ to be doing, but…” he trailed off before going back to his drink.

 

Billy wanted to offer something comforting, but he felt just as bleak about his future. So he settled on, “Yeah. I’m sorry.” 

 

“Don’t be.” Steve nudged Billy’s elbow playfully and finished his first beer, too. “How good can you shotgun?” he asked, setting an unopened can in Billy’s lap. 

 

He rolled his eyes. “For real? You don’t wanna start all that competitive drinking shit with me, Harrington, do you?” 

 

Steve chuckled. “Guess not, _keg king_.” 

 

“Fuck you, pretty boy.” Billy looked over at Steve with a leer, but was thrown for a loop by the playful look in Steve’s _gorgeous_ fucking eyes. He had a sudden desire to get in the pool. As if kissing Steve would be easier in the water. “You swim in this Ritz-Carlton-ass pool often?” 

 

“Oh, Jesus. Enough with the jabs about the ‘mansion’.” Steve punctuated his response with air quotes and a waggle of his tongue. “Do you even know _how_ to swim?” 

 

Billy snorted. “I’m from _California_ , dumbfuck.” He gestured with his chin. “Why don’t you get in? I’ll see if you’re any good.”

 

And to his fucking _relief_ , Steve agreed and stood. “Alright. One more beer though.” He pulled a pocketknife from his back pocket - like he’d been planning it? - and stabbed the nearest can, drinking it all in a few strong pulls. Billy focused on Steve’s throat working around the beer. Like pliant porcelain. 

 

He dramatically, but delicately, threw the can on his chair and then, with a fucking annoying _sparkle_ in his eye, took off his shirt without another word. Billy’s eyes widened, trying to take in every inch of Steve’s torso, until Steve started unbuckling his pants and Billy’s mouth opened slightly. 

 

“Expensive jeans. You know how it is.” Steve winked and shrugged before working his pants off. And instead of jumping in the pool like anybody else, he just had to _slip_ into the water so slowly and gently that Billy’s breath hitched in his throat. The pool lights were fucking _reflecting_ off his skin, and Billy felt himself getting hard. 

 

Steve swam freestyle halfway across the pool, breaststroked back, and twirled around for dramatic effect before treading water, breathing slightly heavier than before. “Happy?” 

 

Billy didn’t have it in him to come up with a clever response. “Yes.” He slowly stood, stripping like Steve had - thank _god_ he’d remembered to put on underwear - and jumped in next to Steve, relishing the sight of Steve rearranging his wet hair when he resurfaced. 

 

Steve swam closer. “I didn’t take you for the ‘pool makeout’ type of guy, though,” he taunted. 

 

“Yeah?” Billy swam towards him, slowly backing Steve towards the wall at the shallower end of the pool. 

 

“Yeah. Figured you were more of a car sex guy. As in, you love that car so much you fuck it— daily.” Steve snickered to himself, and Billy rolled his eyes, standing over Steve now that his feet were touching the bottom of the pool. 

 

“Just shut up, will you?” He saw Steve start to push his lips together like he was about to say ‘make me,’ but decided he didn’t want to give Steve the satisfaction of such a dumb, _typical_ remark. So he leaned down, taking Steve by the back of the neck, and kissed him. 

 

And Steven _moaned_ into his mouth, wrapping his legs one, then another, around Billy’s torso as Billy crouched comfortably in the water. Billy let his hands find Steve’s ass; this time it was his turn to moan. 

 

And he just couldn’t get over the fact that he was making out with a boy, outside, in a pool like a bunch of dumb, horny, teenagers. Not that they _weren’t_. Billy had just figured he was above this kind of ‘childish’ shit by now - but Steve Harrington really was fucking with a lot of his previous convictions. Far be it from Billy to draw the line at Steve wrapping himself around Billy in nothing but his boxers, soaking wet. 

 

They continued like that, Steve backed up against the pool wall, for another five minutes until Billy pulled back and tugged his hand in Steve’s hair. “Want you out of the water.” 

 

“Whatever you say,” Steve taunted, turning around and hauling himself out of the pool. His wet underwear stuck to every single _fucking_ curve of his ass, and Billy suddenly feared for how long he would actually last if he and Steve got around to having sex. _Shit_. 

 

He followed Steve out, but grabbed his wrist and pulled Steve to the dark corner between the house and the pool house before Steve could head inside. 

 

“Why?” Steve questioned, but only half-heartedly, as Billy had started kissing his way down Steve’s neck and then his chest. 

 

“Don’t know.” Billy grinned up at Steve from his crouched position. “Couldn’t wait.” But he went to kneel a moment later, winced at the rough concrete on his knees, and stood. 

 

“Dumb idea. Let’s go inside.” 

 

“Mmmhmm. Okay.” Steve practically skipped inside, and Billy figured Steve was feeling at least as tipsy as he was. 

 

He followed Steve, who grabbed two towels from the bathroom on the way, up to his room. They dried themselves off slowly, avoiding eye contact. Billy wasn’t feeling as flirtatious as he had been just moments before, and apparently, neither was Steve. Something about the bedroom, and the obvious implication of what they were about to do, had sobered Billy a little, made him a little nervous again. 

 

He ventured a look at Steve. “You still okay? With this?” 

 

“Yes. I’m sorry. Am I being too weird? Forward? I don’t know.” Steve shook his head and sat on his bed. “Sorry. I’m just kind of…doing shit without thinking, you know? Just, doing shit.” He laughed and looked at the ceiling.“I’m afraid if I start thinking - .” 

 

“You’ll realize what you’re doing?” 

 

Steve pointed at Billy, laughing again and looking at him with a smile that almost literally brought Billy to his knees. “Yes, exactly. But I do…want this.” 

 

Billy stood between Steve’s legs, running his hands through Steve’s hair and looking down at him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to think. You can do anything, don’t worry.” And he really meant it.

 

“Whatever you say.” Suddenly Steve was thumbing at the waistband of his boxers. “Can I?” 

 

_Is this for fucking-real?_ “Yeah.” Between the beers and Steve’s big brown deer-eyes staring up at him, Billy could barely choke it out. 

 

Cautiously, Steve slipped Billy’s underwear down and helped him step out of it. He eyed Billy’s (fully hard) dick. 

 

“Can I touch it?” 

 

Billy nodded, watching intently as Steve’s hand slowly raised and wrapped around his cock, jerking it slightly and eliciting a soft groan from Billy.

 

“I…like it?” Steve said thoughtfully, hand still on Billy but not moving. 

 

“What, my dick?” 

 

“Hell yeah. It’s…hot.” 

 

Billy’s cock twitched at the compliment and as Steve’s hand tightened around it. 

 

“Wanna suck it.” 

 

Billy breathed in sharply, excited but still cautious and honestly shocked at Steve’s eagerness. _This_ was the boy who’d kissed him drunkenly in the front seat of his Camaro. “What? Uh, you don’t have to, seriously. Especially since this is your first time.” He placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I can blow you. Or we don’t even have to do anything - .” 

 

“I. Want. To.” Steve—the obstinate little brat—looked pointedly up at Billy, who nodded breathlessly, then back to his cock. “I mean, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, really, but - .” 

 

“Don’t care. Just put your mouth on my dick, then, baby.” It was out of Billy’s mouth before he could stop himself. Steve didn’t seem to notice—or care about—the pet name. 

 

“On it,” he grinned. Slowly, he opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around Billy’s cock, barely past the head, and wiggled his tongue. Billy gasped. He kept working, dragging his wet lips along Billy’s dick, still holding it in his right hand, tonguing Billy occasionally. It was, in all honesty, probably the worst blowjob Billy had ever received, but he couldn’t find it in himself to give Steve any direction. Any blowjob from Steve Harrington was a good one. _God_. And besides, Billy was already close to cumming from this absolutely _surreal_ situation. 

 

Steve pulled back momentarily. “Good?” 

 

“God, yes, close.” Billy nodded reassuringly at Steve, pupils blown, before closing his eyes and leaning his head back, fingers tightening in Steve’s hair. Steve moaned and went down again, venturing even further down Billy’s cock. 

 

“In your mouth?” 

 

“What?” Steve mouthed around the tip of Billy’s cock. 

 

“Gonna cum soon. Where do you want it?” Billy managed, breathlessly. He watched Steve consider. 

 

“Mouth.” And with that he was back to work, faster and more intently than before, and it was probably only another _five seconds_ before Billy had a death grip in Steve’s hair and was cumming heavily on Steve’s tongue. When he was done, he looked down and groaned at the sight of a slightly-wrecked Steve, plump lips ghosting around his cock. It was _goddamn artistic_. 

 

He watched Steve swallow and screw his lips into a small grimace. “Don’t like the taste, huh?” 

 

Steve wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I mean, no offense - .”

 

“None taken. Normal not to like it.” 

 

Steve pulled Billy on the bed to lay down next to him. “Okay, well in that case? Disgusting.” He laughed. 

 

“Poor Nancy?” Billy grinned and looked sideways at Steve. 

 

“Poor _fucking_ Nancy. Honestly, I respect her even more now.” Billy was practically _giggling_ with Steve. When they stopped, he looked back to the ceiling. 

 

“For real, though? I didn’t think she was the type to suck dick - .” 

 

“Shhhh.” Steve climbed on top of Billy and put a finger to his lips. “First of all, none of your business. Second of all, I’m only thinking about _one_ person blowing me, and it’s not her.” He smiled and wiggled unceremoniously on Billy’s cock, making him gasp. 

 

“Fuck, Steve, still fucking _sensitive_.” As gently as he could, he pushed Steve off back onto the bed beside him, rolling over on top in the process. “Tell me who you’re thinking about.” 

 

“Mmm, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve looked up at Billy with a faux innocence. 

 

“God, how can you be so nervous and still such a fucking tease?” Billy playfully grabbed Steve’s hair, yanking it back so Steve’s neck was bared. “Tell me.” 

 

“I want your mouth on my cock, _fuck_ , Billy.” Steve was squirming beneath Billy, hips jumping up, _begging_ to be touched. 

 

“Was that so hard?” Billy laughed, pulling Steve’s underwear down roughly. “How do you want it? Rough, slow, sloppy - .” 

 

“I don’t fucking care, just stop talking and get _on_ with - .” Steve was cut off as Billy took Steve’s cock all the way down his throat in one go, swallowing around it and making Steve gasp for air. 

 

“Jesus Christ, Billy.” His hands were in Billy’s hair. 

 

Kneeling on the floor, Steve Harrington’s dick in his mouth, Billy was in heaven. It just tasted _good_ , not just his cock but the fact that they were doing this and Billy’s dick was _still_ sensitive from his orgasm and that Steve’s mouth and moans were just so fucking _filthy_. He blew Steve like it was his fucking job. 

 

Steve only lasted about half a minute longer than Billy. “Do you - cum in your mouth?” 

 

Billy nodded and hummed, not breaking pace, and Steve’s legs squirmed, his left foot finding purchase on Billy’s shoulder. “Okay, Billy - gonna - .” Billy felt Steve’s grip in his hair tighten almost painfully as he eagerly took Steve’s cum down his throat. Sure, he wasn’t going to lie and say it tasted like fucking _candy_ , but - it _was_ Steve. When he was done, Billy pulled slowly off and rested his head on Steve’s hip. 

 

“Good?” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah. Hated it. I think you should just leave now.” He gave Billy that stupid, gorgeous grin he got when he was feeling especially funny, and Billy hauled himself back up to the bed to kneel over Steve. 

 

“You really want me to go?” he whispered, lips now on Steve’s ear. 

 

“No. I - can you stay?” Billy froze, and Steve began talking again quickly. “Okay, sorry, I know that sounded, I don’t know, needy and romantic, I don’t know. Sorry, that was weird - .” 

 

“Shut up.” He smiled softly at Steve. “I just had my best friend’s dick in my mouth. Staying over wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’s happened tonight.” 

 

“Best friend - ?” 

 

Billy cut him off. “And I would love to, but…I need to get home. My dad and, uh, Susan, they’re expecting me back.” He kissed Steve slowly. “I’m sorry.” 

 

“Would you…stay another time?” Steve propped himself on his elbows, looking at Billy nervously. “Just….Maybe we could do more, or, I don’t know, it could be nice.” His stammering, the way he tripped over his words and just talked and talked and talked, was _cute_. 

 

“Yeah, absolutely.” Billy straightened up and handed Steve his boxers. “I can stay sometime. We’ll figure something out.” 

 

“So you _do_ wanna do this again?” Steve’s voice was anxious, but his lips twitched up in a half-smile and his right eyebrow was raised. 

 

“Oh, fuck off - _yes_.” Billy rolled his eyes, pulling on his own underwear and stretching. He put his right hand over his heart and his left in the air, eyes narrowed but smiling widely. “Harrington, I _swear to you_ I’ll suck your dick again - .” 

 

“Jesus Christ,” Steve huffed, pushing Billy’s hand down as Billy laughed. “Let’s find our clothes, huh?” Billy followed him back to the pool, tingling all over as the last of the alcohol in his bloodstream faded, and the excitement of sex with Steve again grew to a fever pitch. 


	11. Chapter 11

11\. (June) The next five hookups (Billy was keeping close track of them) were blowjobs; three at Steve’s house, one in Billy’s car, and one behind Steve’s car where they’d parked on some back road. Billy didn’t mind only going this far at first, and Steve didn’t seem to either. Hell, Billy would’ve just jacked off next to Steve if that was all he could get. But by their sixth time, the question was practically hovering above them as they kissed, and Billy was ready to pop the _can I fuck your ass_ question. Except things were pretty much perfect, and Billy didn’t want his horny ass to ruin them. He agonized over it for days. And days.

 

But then Steve had to go and bring it up first. _Typical_. 

 

“Hey, uh…maybe this is weird…” They were in Steve’s bed, Steve’s head on Billy’s stomach, each smoking a cigarette. Steve had said ‘fuck it’ to his mom’s rules - what was a little smoke when you were banging a guy all over the house? - and allowed Billy to smoke inside. But _only_ in his room. With the windows wide open, a fan on, and a candle burning. Not a resounding ‘fuck it,’ but still. The sentiment was there. 

 

“Yeah, this is pretty weird.” Billy snickered and look down at Steve, who rolled his eyes and scowled up at him. 

 

“You ass - I have a question.” He cleared his throat, took another drag on his cigarette, and continued. “So, we’ve been…blowing each other, you know, a lot.” 

 

“That’s not a question - .” 

 

“Jesus _fuck_.” Steve rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow, glaring at Billy. “Can I just finish? I think you’re gonna wanna hear this.” He raised an eyebrow pointedly, and Billy’s stomach tingled. 

 

Billy held his hands up in surrender, staying pointedly silent. 

 

“Okay, thank you. Uh…” Steve focused intently on the blanket below them. “So, like…actual sex. Like, gay sex, or whatever.” His eyes drew up to Billy tentatively. “Have you, uh…?” 

 

Billy just barely stopped himself before sighing with relief. “Done it? Yeah.” 

 

“Would you, uh…” Steve scratched his head and looked up at the ceiling. “Could we…could you show…yeah?” He looked back to Billy, eyes narrowed. Presumably hoping Billy could piece together what he was too scared to say. 

 

Which, he was. “You want me to show you how? Like, do it with you?” 

 

“That’s it.” Steve smiled and pointed at Billy with his cigarette. “That’s the one.” 

 

Billy leaned up as well, eye level with Steve. “I mean, fuck…I’d love to. But are you sure?” 

 

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, contemplatively working on his cigarette. “Like, you know, maybe I’ll _hate_ it, but…I wanna do it. With _you_.” 

 

Billy tried not to fixate too much on how much Steve had emphasized the _you_ part of his desire. He settled on a gentle nod. “Yeah, hell yeah. We can go slow, all that. Try it out.” 

 

“Now?” 

 

Billy’s cock jumped at Steve’s suddenly-wide eyes and _fucking_ proposal. “You wanna now?” 

 

Steve got that stupid fucking twinkle in his eye and got on his hands and knees, approaching Billy slowly across the bed. “Yes _please_.” 

 

Billy’s breath hitched, and he set a hand under Steve’s chin. “You want me to fuck you? Or you, me?” 

 

Steve paused as if he hadn’t actually considered it. “You. Fucking me.” Billy groaned. 

 

“Okay, uh…” He ran his hand through his own hair as his eyes scanned the room. “You have any lube, or anything?” 

 

“Oh, uh…” Steve scrambled up. “Got…Vaseline?” 

 

Billy nodded slowly, biting his lip. “Not ideal, but…it’ll do.” He winked at Steve and hopped up. “Where is it?” 

 

Steve blushed ever so slightly and reached for his nightstand, pulling it out of the drawer. He handed it sheepishly to Billy. 

 

“Always prepared, huh?” Billy winked again and kissed Steve slowly. “Do you want to be on your back, or your hands and knees, or…?” 

 

“On my back.” Steve looked at Billy under his lashes, still flushed and now grinding gently on Billy. “I wanna be able to look at your _pretty_ face.” 

 

_Jesus_. For a fucking newbie, Steve said the most goddammned things sometimes. “Of course, _baby_ ,” Billy responded automatically. They’d fallen into the habit of delivering their pet names and compliments in an almost mocking tone - probably to mitigate the uncertainty they still felt about being affectionate with one another. Or, whatever. 

 

Steve settled onto his back, wiggling out of his pants and underwear, never breaking eye contact with Billy, who skipped undressing altogether and only pulled his dick out, playing with it while eyeing Steve. He slicked his finger up in Vaseline, then leaned towards Steve. 

 

“You ready? I’ll finger you open first.” His heart was leaping with excitement, but Billy was an old pro at _this_ , and it made him just a tiny bit more level headed. 

 

“Gently?” 

 

Billy was ready to tease Steve about his tone, but when he managed to pull his gaze away from Steve’s ass and meet his eyes, his face softened. Steve looked, like, actually, genuinely, nervous. And fucking vulnerable, and new, and _god_ if that wasn’t getting to Billy. 

 

“Of course. Yeah, of course.” He gave Steve a reassuring smile and maintained eye contact as he started pushing gently at Steve’s hole, Steve’s mouth dropping into a perfect little ‘o’ and his eyes (somehow) getting wider. 

 

He started off slow and deliberate, totally present and slipping one finger, then another, slowly and carefully into Steve, working him open, but the whole thing was something out of a goddamn fantasy that Billy had been keeping at bay for months. Next thing he knew, Steve was grasping at his chest. 

 

“Come _on_ , Billy, just fuck me already.” 

 

“What?” Billy paused, stilling his now three fingers, and looked curiously at Steve. “How would you even _know_ you’re all ready, huh, pretty boy?” he teased. He waited for Steve to do something dumb like stick his tongue out at Billy, but instead he just blushed even deeper and clawed more desperately at Billy. 

 

“Just - _please_.” 

 

“Nuh-uh.” Billy grinned hungrily and moved his fingers ever so slightly in and out of Steve, teasing him. “How would you know?” 

 

Steve’s protests faltered as he just _moaned_ while Billy fingered him, and after a minute Billy raised an eyebrow as Steve still hadn’t answered him. 

 

“Jesus, fine - _in the past_ , I’ve, you know, played…with stuff. Down there. Jesus, there you go, fuck me now?” 

 

Billy laughed in shock, eyebrows high. “You said you weren’t sure if you’d _like_ getting fucked, _baby_.” 

 

Steve’s eyes were near murderous. “Doing it myself and _you_ doing it are two different things.” He propped himself up on his hands as best he could with Billy’s fingers still inside him. “I wanted to seem a little innocent, get over it. Now _fuck me_ ,” he panted, hand tugging in Billy’s hair. And _god_ , the fiery look in Steve’s eyes sobered Billy right up. 

 

“I’m gonna. Right now.” He pulled his fingers out of Steve as fast as he thought was humane, fumbled to wipe them off on the sheets, and lined up with Steve’s open hole. He sank in deliberately, almost torturously slowly, but he needed to fucking savor this moment. Remember it, in vivid detail. 

 

Steve was letting out some - was filthy the right word? maybe _insanely sexy_ -moans, throwing his head back and leaning back down so he was flush with the bed. Billy tried to maintain his slow speed as long as he could - which wasn’t long. He sped up, and grasped at Steve’s chin, fingers on his lips. “This good?”

 

“ _Fuck_ , yes. You can go harder.” Steve gripped Billy’s forearms and Billy fucking _ran_ with Steve’s permission, fucking him probably harder than he’d ever fucked anyone and absolutely _reveling_ in Steve’s reactions. 

 

“Steve, I’m gonna cum soon.” 

 

Steve nodded, eyes half closed. “Me too. Not inside me.” 

 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Billy panted. He fixated on Steve’s bitten-red lips, and thought about them being _places_ , and suddenly he was pulling out and splattering cum all over the shirt Steve had never removed. Steve was right on his heels, adding to the mess and practically - screaming? _Jesus H. Christ_. 

 

Billy didn’t sit down right away, just stood over Steve, taking in the view and absentmindedly running his fingers up and down his own stomach. When Steve resurfaced from his orgasm, he looked at Billy with wild eyes, trying to grin but clearly still a little messed up. 

 

“Billy.” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“I mean…Billy.” Steve sighed, moaned, gestured to his ruined shirt, and raised his eyebrows. _Fucking drama queen_ , Billy thought, as if he didn’t _like_ it. 

 

“I mean…Steve,” he mocked, climbing to kneel over Steve and get face-to-face with him. “You mad about your shirt, or are you trying to use your words and tell me you liked it?” 

 

“Definitely liked it.” Steve relaxed back into the bed as Billy ran his hands through his hair, closing his eyes again. “Maybe a _little_ mad about the shirt.” He opened his eyes just enough to wink up at Billy. 

 

“How about I help you clean it off?” Billy waited until he had Steve’s undivided eye-contact before scraping as much cum off of Steve’s shirt as hadn’t soaked in yet and bringing his fingers to his mouth. He knew his eyes were shining; he loved doing shit like this. And Steve obviously liked it too; he was emitting little moans that practically sounded like whimpers. 

 

Right before his fingers could enter his mouth, Steve grabbed his wrist. “Billy - fuck, don’t even _think_ about doing that, cause - it’s _so_ fucking hot. You’ll get me hard again.” 

 

Billy twirled his tongue around his fingers and wiggled his hips. “And?” 

 

Steve gave Billy that ‘I’ll murder you, but after you fuck me first’ look again and tangled his fingers in Billy’s hair. “And so you’ll have to _blow me_ cause my ass is sore - in a good way,” he added when Billy’s brows furrowed.

 

“Oh _no_ ,” Billy teased, helping Steve out of his shirt before kissing down Steve’s chest. “I would _hate_ to have _another man’s dick_ \- ,” he paused for dramatic effect, an inch above Steve’s hardening cock, “in my mouth.” 

 

“I swear to fucking _god_ , Billy - .” 

 

Billy had his dick in his mouth before Steve could finish. 


	12. Chapter 12

12\. (July) It was hard enough keeping track of the days in the summer, but the near-constant fucking with Steve made it practically impossible. Days melted into nights in Steve’s Beamer, into days, into night’s in Billy’s Camaro, into days where all Billy could think about was Steve’s fucking pretty little ass. The only thing giving him a semblance of structure was his lifeguarding job, which generally lined up pretty well with Steve’s schedule at the mall. 

 

And it was amazing, getting to sleep with Steve and enjoy the sex, and this boy he liked, and to feel almost like a normal, hormonal teenager with a larger-than-life sex drive, but - things felt a little uneasy for Billy, too. Because he could _feel_ himself getting attached to, _used to_ Steve, and when you get attached, when you fall into routine? You let your guard down. Billy had learned that lesson multiple ways - at home when things were just a _little too easy-going_ with Neil, on the court when you let yourself get _complacent_ with your progress, when you let yourself think it’s _normal_ to be a fucking faggot and have your dick in some guy’s ass multiple times a week. 

 

So that’s why he acted like an ass when Steve asked if they were boyfriends. 

 

“Look, I…I know that for…guys like us you can’t really do the same shit as other people can, in public, but….” They were having beers out by Steve’s pool, basking in the setting sun, fingers just barely touching where their hands dangled off their respective chairs. 

 

“But what?” Billy stiffened slightly, leaving his hand where it was near Steve, but bringing his beer to his lips to cover his small grimace. 

 

“But…I feel like, I don’t know.” Steve scratched at his forehead. “I feel like we’re boyfriends, kinda.” 

 

“ _Boyfriends_?” Billy had almost spilled his drink, but managed to steel his face, looking straight ahead. “What do you mean?” he managed. 

 

“Uh.” Billy felt Steve turn to sit facing him, and pulled his hand away when Steve tried to take it fully into his. “Okay, sorry, I mean….I’m not trying to be _romantic_ or anything. Just…I haven’t slept with anyone else basically the whole time we’ve been together. And…we hang out a lot.” 

 

Billy hadn’t slept with anyone for just as long, but he wasn’t about to admit it. He just stayed silent, stiff as a fucking board and heart beating out of his chest. 

 

“And, you know, I know you have another year of school and we’re young and like we haven’t even _talked_ about this, god, I know - .” Steve was rambling, obviously stressed and even a little insecure. “But, like, I _like_ you, and, I don’t know, maybe in the future, after you graduate or - .” 

 

“The _future_?” Billy “ _liked_ ” Steve too, but Steve was talking about _life together_ , about _settling_ , and Billy’s instincts didn’t have to tell him twice to toss that shit right out. “Why - we can’t have a _future_ , Steve.” He turned to look at Steve, and he was so blinded with anger and _fear_ , even, that the hurt in Steve’s eyes almost - almost - didn’t register. 

 

“Billy - fuck, okay? I’m not trying to pin you down, just, _hypothetically_ \- .” 

 

“Steve, you don’t get it.” Billy stood, walked in a circle around the pool chair, and sat back down, inching up to Steve’s face. “There is no _future_ for a couple of faggots like us.” 

 

Steve’s brows furrowed. “I mean, yeah, it might be a little hard, but plenty of people do it, Billy. Especially in big cities, you know - .” 

 

“No, Steve, _you don’t get it_.” Billy wished Steve was wearing a shirt so he could’ve grabbed the collar. “Maybe you can run off, and find a nice guy, and suck his fucking dick the rest of your life, but _I_ can’t. I won’t.” He shook his head fiercely - maybe to shake away the tears that were frustratingly gathering under Billy’s eyes. 

 

Steve looked at him, confused. “Well, Billy, sure you can - .”

 

“You don’t know what happened!” Billy screamed, only catching himself and lowering his voice on the last word. “You don’t - .” He jabbed a finger in Steve’s chest and leaned back, taking a breath. 

 

“I mean, yeah, I don’t _understand_ it cause it didn’t happen to me. And, I’m so sorry things happened the way they did Billy, that you had to fucking _move_ and get hurt by your friends and your dad like that, Jesus, I can’t imagine - .” Steve was reaching out towards Billy, but he was having none of it, and pushed Steve’s hands away. 

 

“No, that - you don’t _know_ ,” he hissed, standing before Steve could see a tear fall. “Yeah you _know_ all that, but it didn’t happen to _you_.” He punctuated the last word with another finger in Steve’s face, before turning to pace around the chair again. “You don’t _know_ what happened, you don’t know how it feels to get two _fucking_ ribs cracked, _and_ your goddamn collarbone _broken_ , and your ankle all fucked up with god-knows-what issues so that it _still_ hurts when you play basketball, but you have to _pretend it doesn’t_ , and have to throw away your favorite shirt because you fucking bled all over it, and have your dad find out you’re some goddamn _whore queer_ \- ,” he sniffled and put down the fingers he’d used to count his injuries. He was back in Steve’s face, staring him down, face twisted in anger “ - and have to fucking _move_ to this shithole.” 

 

He finished off his beer, Steve watching him silently, lips quivering. Billy continued. “ _So_ , that’s why I have no future like that, cause I _tried_ to and look how it turned out, huh? So I’m gonna find a nice girl, with a nice pussy, and fuck some _nice_ kids into her, and hope to _god_ they don’t come out faggots too so they don’t have to go through this fucking _shit_.” 

 

He stared at Steve, almost challenging him to speak - which, of course, he did. Except, out of character, he was angry. Angrier than Billy had seen Steve in a long time. Maybe ever. 

 

“Then what the _fuck_ was all this?” Steve stood, gesturing around with both arms. “Huh?” 

 

Billy opened his mouth, and Steve cut him off. “And don’t you dare fucking say ‘some summer fling,’ cause that shit is casual, and this _fucking wasn’t_ , you know that. I mean, why is this just coming up now, huh? Jesus, Billy, I didn’t even _like_ guys ’til I started with you, and you…you spent the fucking _night_ , and, like, we did all that _date_ kind of shit together, and - that’s no fucking _fling_.” He hand his hands on his hips, but it wasn’t comical like it usually was. 

 

“Who says it’s not? People do that shit all the time, it doesn’t always _mean_ anything -.” 

 

“So none of this meant _anything_?” 

 

And Billy hesitated, not because he had to think about it - it had meant a _shit ton_ \- but because this was the critical moment. Where he could either save his ass and break Steve’s heart, or take a _big_ fucking risk and maybe - be happy? Be _with_ _Steve_. But suddenly his brain, and his mouth, and maybe even his heart stopped working, and he just did that embarrassing shit he only did with Steve, and started to sob. Because it was all too much. He wasn’t ready, to move on with this, to make this kind of decision. And he almost wished he’d never let Steve back into his life after _one fucking kiss_ , but - and he hated to admit it to himself - he’d also never been happier. As long as he didn’t actually think about it. 

 

“Shhhh.” Steve was on him in a second, arms wrapped around him, kisses in his hair. He was choking down a few sobs, too. “Billy, I’m _so_ sorry, that that happened to you.” He just petted Billy’s hair, and Billy let him. “And - we don’t have to talk about a future. And anything you want to do, or change, so you feel safer about us - whatever we are - we’ll do it, okay? But I promise you that’s not gonna happen again.” 

 

Steve led Billy to a seat on a pool chair, still cradling him. Billy had forced himself back from desperate tears to shaky breaths. 

 

“I promise. We can do it. And you don’t have to promise anything, but if you want things to stay like this, if you want to be together…we can make it work, Billy. We’ll be _safe_.” 

 

Apparently Steve was out of things to say, and Billy hadn’t found his voice yet, so they just rocked back and forth slowly, the space between them growing sticky and sweaty in the evening humidity. 

 

“I like you.” He barely whispered it, but Steve must have heard him, because he clutched Billy tighter and maybe even _sighed_ a little. And Billy hoped those three stupid, far-from-eloquent words somehow conveyed to Steve everything - the hurt, the joy, the comfort, the fear - that he was feeling, so that maybe, _maybe_ Steve would understand. And Steve could forgive him. 

 

“You too,” was his answer, and Billy melted a little further into Steve’s chest. 


End file.
